Fears
by Old Romantic
Summary: A birthday fic for Dean's Girl 1967 and her friend. Dean, Sam, and Bobby discuss what scares them.


**Beta: **Biba (biba79 on LJ)**  
Spoilers/Timeline:** Set sometime in Season 2, after 2x02 – Everybody Loves a Clown. Spoilers only up 'til then.**  
Disclaimer: **As always, I'm just toying with the characters for a little while, but I promise to put them back into the toy box when I'm through. :)

**Summary: **A birthday fic for **Dean's Girl 1967 **and her friend, who just wanted some Sam/Dean/Bobby humor. :) Happy birthday, you guys!

**A/N: **I did a little research among fellow fans to find out if there was any backstory I was missing, but no one could remember. Of course, I had a limited pool to work in, so if something is off from canon, don't shoot me!

I tried posting this last night but it just wasn't working for me - sorry it's a little late in the day! I hope you like this! Enjoy! :D

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1/1

After a long day of fighting another Wendigo in the forest north of Bobby's place, the three were toasting their success over a six-pack of cold beers when the subject of their fears came up. Sam had wondered aloud if there was anything that Bobby was afraid of, but after an adamant denial, he'd quickly turned the tables on Sam, wondering where his fear of clowns had stemmed from.

"It's stupid, really," Sam downplayed, shaking his head. "There was this one time when I was really little… We were supposed to be asleep, and I know Dean was out… Dad was passed out drunk in the chair and he'd left the TV on in our hotel room, when I ventured out of bed closer to the TV. There was some cheesy-ass horror film on in the middle of the night, and for about fifteen minutes, I was completely glued to the TV…until I saw the killer in the movie dressed as a clown. Scared the hell out of me. I couldn't sleep the rest of the night."

"Dude, I knew you had issues," Dean smirked as he took another swig of his beer. "I just didn't think it came from some lame movie."

"Shut up," Sam chuckled involuntarily as he backhanded his brother on the arm. "At least I'm not afraid of the safest form of transportation on the _planet_."

"Hey," Dean held up a finger. "At least my fear is rational. Planes crash every day, dude. Besides that one killer clown we actually killed, clowns are just sickos with a ton of makeup on their faces and goofy outfits. You're even afraid of their squirting flowers," he added with a laugh.

"That's a rational fear, too. Haven't you heard about those people that put pee in squirt guns and squirt people on the street? Who's to say that clowns wouldn't do the same thing?"

"Whatever," Dean waved off, leaning his chair back on two legs. "How do you explain away your fear of their giant shoes?"

Sam looked away, almost refusing to answer the question. He knew he was in trouble when he heard Dean's chair legs touch the floor again.

"Oh, this must be good," Dean told Bobby, who was watching the whole thing with drunken amusement. "Spill it, Sammy."

"No, I think we should just change the subject, now. What is it that you do when you're afraid of flying again?"

Dean didn't pause. "I hum Metallica songs, doofus. Now, tell us, Sammy. Why are you afraid of the big clown shoes?"

Sam groaned, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, fighting a self-conscious laugh. "Oh, you are not going to let this go, are you?" he mumbled more to himself than his brother.

But Dean answered anyway, "No, and don't think I wouldn't torture with this until you _do_ tell me."

"You wouldn't," Sam wondered, knowing in advance his reply.

"Of course I would. What, do you not know me at all? You never know when you'll wake up _hugging_ a big clown shoe until I get the answer I'm looking for."

"Oh, god," Sam groaned again. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you. But before I talk, you have to promise me that you will _never _torture me with anything to do with clowns in the future. No shoes, no big red nose, no squirting flowers, nothing."

"Alright, fine, you wussie," Dean finally agreed, as if the wind was taken out of his sails. Sam knew his brother _really _wanted the opportunity to tease him as much as possible, should they go through another phase of tripping each other up with practical jokes.

"Okay," Sam replied, clearing his throat and leaning forward in his chair. "Back in college, I was, uh… A couple of guys in my fraternity learned about my fear of clowns and decided to have some fun with it. So, for my birthday one year, they told me that they were going to hire a stripper."

Bobby started to chuckle, believing he knew exactly where Sam was going with this story. "Oh no, don't tell me they asked her to dress as a clown."

"Yeah, they did. And every piece of clothing she took off, they put on me. I hated the clown angle, but I tried to make the best of it, and when it came to the shoes…"

"Go on," Dean nudged, intrigued by the story.

"There was something…sticky inside...got all over my foot…"

"Ew," Bobby reacted. "What was it?"

"I didn't know, but when one of my friends suggested that it must've been something leftover from her last customer, I was done."

"Ugh!" Dean and Bobby both proclaimed, jerking back in their chairs as if they'd been simultaneously struck.

Bobby's face was contorted as he commented, "Good god, it's no wonder you don't like clowns."

"Yeah," Sam laughed as he took another sip. "Now it's your turn. Why are you afraid of flying, Dean? I mean, besides the obvious answer you gave us earlier, that crashes happen every day."

"Isn't that enough?" Dean tried, hoping to put him off.

"Considering more people die in car accidents every year than in planes, no, it isn't a good enough reason. You don't seem to have any problem driving the Impala everywhere we go. And the more you drive, the higher your risk is for crashing."

"I just would rather be on the ground, okay?"

The way he'd said that struck a chord within Sam. "Wait a minute. Come to think of it, I don't think you've been on anything that lifted you off the ground, at least, not since we were kids and Dad took us to that fair that one year we begged him to." He paused, recalling just how much begging he'd done to convince their father to stop and let them spend a few hours at the traveling fair when they saw it on their way through a town they were passing. Watching Dean try to avoid the conversation, he realized he was onto something. "What'd we ride that day? The Tilt-o-Whirl was first, I know we went on the Gravitron… I remember we left right after we went on the Enterprise. What that it, Dean?"

"Don't forget the Pirate Ship. I almost fell off that damn thing, if it hadn't been for the two people on either side of me that pulled me up."

"Is that why you have this whole fear of flying?" Sam wondered. Dean was tight-lipped, and Sam was thoughtfully considering that his brother was getting too sauced to use that as his excuse just to get it over with. But when he didn't answer right away, Sam knew that Dean was hiding something else. "It was the Enterprise, wasn't it? You believed that story, that urban legend."

"It was _not _an urban legend," Dean argued adamantly, reconfirming Sam's suspicions.

Sam was laughing as Bobby asked, "What urban legend?"

"People were talking about it at the fair, about how one of the cars had once come off of the Enterprise, sending the occupants flying into the crowd, killing a whole lot of people, including the riders. There was never any proof –"

"But it was _true_," Dean interjected; making both the other men snicker. "Hey," Dean stood up defensively, "I didn't believe it either until I went _on _the Enterprise. I felt that car shake, and I heard it rattling. I even saw a loose screw so I _know_ that I just barely escaped with my life."

"Yeah, someone had a screw loose, for sure," Bobby muttered under his breath, and he and Sam laughed some more.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Dean said sarcastically. "At least I'm not afraid of something stupid like clowns or tiny little lizards."

At the mention of the domestic reptiles, Bobby's face fell, and he pulled the beer bottle away from his lips, setting it on the table. Sam's laughter directed toward his brother suddenly shifted focus to their father's friend. "What is he talking about?" Sam wanted to know, his grin wide.

But Bobby didn't answer, staring angrily at the younger man.

It was then that Dean realized, "Oh, that reminds me…" He began digging in his pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, Bobby," and he tossed a plastic lizard keychain on the table.

Both boys howled with laughter as Bobby jumped out of his chair and stumbled backwards, knocking over several pieces of furniture and his beer to the ground. "Get that thing the hell out of my house, Dean!"

Sam's laughter was uncontrollable now, as he was doubled over in his seat. "You're afraid of lizards, Bobby?" he managed between chuckles and the deep breaths he was barely able to take.

"Yeah, Sherlock," Bobby said sarcastically, still some six feet away from the table where the plastic lizard sat. "Why do you think I don't live anywhere _near_ the south or some tropical region?"

His reply only made Sam laugh harder, thinking of how afraid he was of a piece of plastic.

Satisfied that the focus was off of him, Dean sat down again and propped his ankles up on the table, sitting back to drink and enjoy his beer. They should've known by now not to pick on him about his fear of flying. Now he doubted they ever would again.


End file.
